


The Contract(s)

by rowan_one



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5944294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowan_one/pseuds/rowan_one





	The Contract(s)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuperiorDimwit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperiorDimwit/gifts), [exorpriest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exorpriest/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Terra](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856869) by [SuperiorDimwit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperiorDimwit/pseuds/SuperiorDimwit). 
  * Inspired by [Inferno](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098465) by [SuperiorDimwit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperiorDimwit/pseuds/SuperiorDimwit). 



  
Friends.

What we are, what I called it.

Demons don’t have friends, they don’t make them.

Especially not with humans.

Tempt them? Oh yes.

Use them?

Break them?

Yesyesyes.

What did he see instead of 

Friendship?

A toy.

A puppet.

A plaything.

A chesspiece.

All I am, all I ever was as he 

Tempted—used—broke me.

He drew me in, all shiny promises and glinting fun,

Even when things took a darker turn, the banter was irresistible.

I was not something to be owned and toyed with.

I would push against him, try to fuck him over as he tried to do the same to me.

He corrupted me with his darkness.

He had so much trapped inside him it leaked into the air surrounding him the moment his mask cracked.

And oh how I was one of few who could cause that rupture.

And oh how I paid.

Was it worth it?

If the danger I played with bit right back.

A “friendship” where you are always watching your back for a knife, on your guard, fighting the marionette strings as they looped around you.

They say the red string of fate links lovers by pinky or thumb.

But how would I have room for that when he has tied me up already for his own personal gain.

A puppet for his personal use.

A chesspiece for his latest match.

Could I even say in confidence I may have been his favorite?

He moved me from game to game,

Bound me to him in contract,

Something had to he there, right?

I was more, right?

Friendship.

That’s what I called it.

Friends, that’s what I thought we were.

He tempted me with his flickering flames of light and dark.

Every smooth contradiction beckoned me closer and closer.

I refused to play and he only laughed at my challenge, lassoing me in those strings and dragging me back again.

> "You can’t dance with the Devil, and then ask why you are still in Hell."
> 
> "And you are so fond of me because I represent the sins you have not the courage to commit."

Honeyed words from a voice that sounds like the melting caramels he is so fond of eating, soft and smooth and sickly sweet.

A voice which is quick to take the edge of shattered glass when pushed.

Flashes of light and dark which clashes in night and day, a spark which arises from the conflict.

Friendship.

That’s what I called it, what I thought we had.

But in truth I may have been nothing but a new toy for interesting play.

Your words promised that it would only be a scorching singe that would start slowly, you promised me that the contract was a formality until I reached my bitter end.

That you would be satisfied with me as long as I kept feeding small bits of tinder to the fire pit in order to keep it alight.

You would burn me for years to come.

But that spark which sprung forth from chaos would have no such thing to partake in.

You were the spark and I was merely fuel to burn and burn and burn. 

You set me alight, my smokey breath the only remnant of me as you filled me and filled me with molten metal as you,

Used me as scrap while smelting a shiny new piece for play.

I could no longer even scream.

I was buried too deeply in the mess of your toybox to be heard.

Your clashing, changing, flames from your spark, which ate me up until there was nothing left.

Seared me and charred my skin, while my whispered, muted screams went unheard as you only consumed.

Greedy. 

What else did I expect?

I could hear your mocking calls about my breath which I had once tainted with smoke myself.

I could hear your roaring, raucous laughter as my form fractures, shatters, splinters like fragile porcelain or glass caught in the heat of an inferno, 

The furnace you had become when I had been blinded and dizzied by your pretty words.

As much as I writhed to escape you were deadset on unmaking me.

But, 

I had not thought of what the end would truly be.

For in truth,

It would be blue flames that roared around me as I collapsed instead.


End file.
